


Christmas Movie

by BrennanSpeaks



Category: The Last of Us (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Estrangement, Family, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 07:06:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28347375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrennanSpeaks/pseuds/BrennanSpeaks
Summary: At Christmastime, Ellie tries to set aside her anger towards Joel for long enough to enjoy a time-honored holiday tradition.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 34





	Christmas Movie

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place a couple of months before the start of Part II. That's it. That's your warning.

Ellie carefully sketches a curving line with the edge of her charcoal stick. She pauses a moment, then smudges with her thumb, trying to blend the shades. She hasn't worked much with charcoal before, but it seemed like the best medium to capture the deep shadows and dancing light of that night by the bonfire. She adjusts the lamp, checks out the shading from another angle, and smiles a little. It's coming together, and she still has a week until Christmas. She's pretty sure she can finish it. She's pretty sure Dina will like it.

A knock at the front door draws her attention. It's getting dark out, but it's not that late. Over at the house, Joel has flipped the porch lights on, but he knows better than to knock on her door. She shrugs, wipes the excess charcoal off on her jeans, and goes to see who it is. The door swings open to reveal a woman wearing an overly-festive hat and an intent expression. Ellie grins. "Hey, Maria. That's . . . quite the fashion statement."

Under a cap of red and green checkered wool, Maria snorts. "Mrs. Henderson knitted it for me. Didn't want to hurt her feelings, the poor dear. Anyway." She holds out a box, wrapped in brown paper and tied with kitchen twine. "I baked too much, as usual. Gotta get these out of my house before Tommy rots every last tooth."

"Happy to help. I've got some teeth to spare." She unwraps the package and checks inside. "This is a _lot_ of cookies, though."

"Well, you've got friends. Spread 'em around."

Ellie grabs a frosted sugar cookie and takes a bite, hiding a smile. Maria didn't "bake too much" accidentally. She never does anything by chance. "You want to come in? I've got . . . well, okay, I've got water, tequila, and some three-day-old milk, but at least it's warm in here."

"It is a bit nippy out." Maria steps past her, giving Ellie an up-close look at the zigzag stripes on the hat's ear flaps. "Looks nice in here." She sheds the hat and puts it and another paper-wrapped package on a side table.

"Thanks." Her tinsel is more than a little threadbare, but she's hung paper chains from the walls and cut-out snowflakes from the ceiling, like she used to do with Riley back at school. She finds her two cleanest glasses, pours a little milk in each, and invites Maria to sit. The older woman picks up a cookie, dusted with cinnamon, and takes a bite that looks too casual. 

"Ain't seen enough of you lately," she says, "How you been?"

Ellie shrugs. "You know. Same old."

"You still seeing that girl?"

"Cat? Uh, no. Definitely no."

"I'm sorry. She seemed sweet."

_Sweet's_ not the word Ellie would've chosen. All the same, she traces a finger over her tat, remembering the good times.

"You got any plans for Christmas Eve?"

Ellie takes another bite of the cookie and chews to buy herself a minute. Her lip quirks a little. Conversation with Maria always feels like a slightly perilous dance - she never quite says what she means. Tommy says that's just her Midwest upbringing. Ellie's not so sure. "Nothing much. I'll probably hang out with Jesse and Dina for a bit. They said something about eggnog."

"Well. Hate to take you away from your friends, but if you've got time in the evening, we'd love to have you over at the house."

Ellie takes a swig of milk. At least it's not too sour. "What'd you have in mind?"

"The usual. We probably won't do much for dinner this year, but Tommy was hoping you'd come by." She smiles. "Maybe watch a Christmas movie."

Ellie tries to keep a straight face for a moment, then breaks and cracks a grin. "Yippe-ki-yay, motherfucker?"

"How'd you guess?" Maria snorts, then looks up at Ellie a bit more earnestly. "Seriously, Ellie, we missed you last year."

Ellie's smile falters as she remembers why she skipped last year's Christmas movie. "Yeah, well. You know."

She does know. Ellie's not sure when Joel fessed up to them about what he did - could've been they knew years before she did. She tries not to think about that too hard because there's only so many people she can hold a grudge against at once. "Tommy misses you. Seems like he never sees you anymore."

That's the truth, but it's hardly her fault. Joel and Tommy have been practically attached at the hip for a year and a half, now. Ellie is starting to feel like she lost Tommy in the divorce. Still . . . "And I'd love to spend more time with Tommy. And with you." She spits Maria with a look. "But, is Joel going to be there?" 

The moment of silence that follows tells Ellie everything she needs to know. Her hand thuds off the tabletop and she gives a frustrated huff. "For fuck's sake, Maria, we talked about this!"

"He's got nowhere else to go! We ain't turnin' him away if he wants to show up."

"And that's fine! Have him over. Share all the yippie-ki-yays you want, but leave me the fuck out of it."

"It's Christmas, Ellie. I want to spend it with my family. That means Joel and it means you."

"We're not doing this. You know perfectly well why I don't spend time with Joel."

"And I respect that. You've got plenty of reasons to be mad, but I think you can put 'em aside for a couple hours and be civil."

"Maria . . ."

"You don't have to talk to him if you don't want. Hell, you've been doing a damn good job of ignoring him while livin' in his backyard for a year and a half. It ain't gonna kill you to sit in the same room with him for two hours."

Ellie shoves the box of cookies away. "Just stop, okay? Stop acting like I'm the bad guy here."

Maria, of course, does not do that, but she does soften. She leans forward and clasps a hand over Ellie's. "The holidays get lonely, girl. It's always been that way. An' the older you get, the lonelier it can be. Now, you've got your friends, and if you decide to stay away I'll understand. But, Joel's only got us."

It's on the tip of Ellie's tongue to correct her - to say "he's only got _you_ ," but she doesn't do it. Quite against her will, she finds herself remembering that first Christmas in Jackson - how Joel made that frame for the picture of Sarah and then she caught him decorating it with a bit of tinsel and a holly sprig. The _look_ on his face.

She shakes herself. It doesn't matter, anyway. There's no winning against Maria once she decides to go full-on nuclear-option guilt trip. Ellie sighs and decides to just buy some time. "Just . . . let me think about it, okay? I've gotta see what Dina and Jesse want to do, first."

Maria didn't get to where she is in life without knowing when to accept a partial victory. She polishes off her cookie and stands. "Okay. Jus' let me know in the next couple days, so I know how much food to make."

Ellie nods and goes to see her out. "Don't forget your hat. I don't want that monstrosity in my house." Maria smiles and grabs both the hat and the paper-wrapped package beneath. It has to be more cookies, but this package is a lot smaller. Enough for one person, probably. Ellie resists the urge to roll her eyes. Maria doesn't do anything by accident. It's clear that she _wants_ Ellie to see the little package and guess where she's going next.

"It was good seeing you, sweetheart. Hope to have you over."

Ellie gives her a noncommittal nod. She closes the door behind her, but not before she sees Maria start up the path towards Joel's house. Ellie runs a hand through her hair, wishing it didn't have to be so fucking complicated.

On the other side of the room, there's a large sketch pad tucked on the shelf. She walks over to it, moving like she's in a dream, and flips it open. On the last page, she's sketched one of her more elaborate drawings. It's just pencil - nothing like the fancy charcoals she's experimenting with for Dina's drawing - but she's carefully shaded in the background of trees and clouds. Delicate little lines add texture to the giraffe's fur - for an extreme close-up like this, she has to be detailed. Over the patterned fur, she's sketched two hands - one large and grizzled, the other smaller. Hands are tough - they take a lot of practice to get right. That must be why she picked this particular image, though it doesn't explain the week she spent on it while gifts for Dina and Jesse and Tommy languished, unfinished. 

She sighs and puts it back. Just because people start hanging some tinsel and getting all sappy doesn't mean that anything has changed. Too many people are dead for her to just let him off the hook.

She doubts she's going to win against Maria, though. And at the moment, she's not sure she wants to try.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

The next day, Ellie checks the chore schedule on the big billboard downtown. Tommy's got stable duty in the afternoon, with no sign of Joel. Good. She signs up for an extra shift.

The stables smell of hay and manure - a mixture that's familiar and comforting by now. She finds Tommy mucking out a stall on the end. He glances up at her and nods as she digs her pitchfork in next to his.

"I know what you're trying to do."

His lip twitches. "Shovel shit?"

She snorts. "I talked to Maria. Real subtle, really, from both of you."

"You want subtlety out of a Bruce Willis movie?"

She doesn't smile. She's thinking about all of the little chance encounters she's had with Joel over the past year and a half: crossing paths with him on patrol, on work detail, in line at the market. That one afternoon when they both decided to grill in the backyard and then they were both too stubborn to leave, leading to forty-five minutes of awkward silence while he flipped burgers and she turned sausages and they both pretended the other wasn't there. He mostly respects the boundaries she's placed - the wall that now hems in the singed ashes of their relationship - but sometimes that's not enough for her. Sometimes she catches herself lashing out - snapping at him over some meaningless pleasantry, answering his concerned looks with hard glares. Every little act of aggression brings with it a toxic rush of satisfaction followed by shame when she sees his face fall. Her little outbursts don't serve any purpose, and they feel increasingly petty, even though she knows the emotion behind them is not. He knows how much he hurt her, but she can't seem to help hurting him back. She's sick of it.

"I don't know what you're expecting, but me and Joel in the same room for two hours won't be anything but a shit show. I'm avoiding him for a _reason_."

"I know," Tommy says simply, "You coming or not?"

She shovels some manure into the wheelbarrow, hiding a scowl. The question is direct and to the point, leaving no room for her to debate or criticize or talk about her feelings. God, sometimes Tommy is exactly like him.

But, she _does_ miss him. Tommy, that is. She misses Tommy.

"There'd have to be conditions," she says after a long moment, "And I'm not the one that's gonna explain it to Joel. You make sure he's on board, and I'll show up."

"Okay . . . ?"

Her jaw tightens. "He doesn't talk to me. And vice versa. I'm there to see you and Maria, and he just happens to be there."

"Sounds kind of awkward."

"Trust me, it's better than the alternative."

"What else?"

"No dinner. I'm _not_ going to sit across the table from him for an hour."

"I'll talk to Maria. We can do some snacks with the movie. And booze. I've got a feeling everybody's gonna want some."

"You've got that right." She looks down and shakes her head. "One more thing."

"Yeah?"

"Don't . . . don't make this into a big thing. And don't let _Joel_ turn this into something it's not. This isn't going to be some heartwarming reconciliation scene. We're just watching a movie."

"I'll talk to him."

"Good." She nods and forces a half-smile. "And if he's got any conditions or rules of engagement or whatever, I'm all ears."

Tommy heaves a mound of wet straw into the wheelbarrow and rolls his shoulder to loosen it. "He won't. But, I do."

There's a slight edge to his voice. Ellie meets his gaze cautiously. "Yeah?"

He looks her square in the eye. "My house is Switzerland. I don't want you goin' after him, tryin' to make him feel worse."

She feels the urge to snap back at that, but pushes it down. She looks away. "I don't want that either."

He sighs. "I'm only gonna ask this once. I get it if you don't want to answer. But . . ."

"What?"

"How long are you gonna do this, kiddo?"

She scowls. "Oh, come on . . ."

"I'm jus' sayin', what do you want from him?"

" _Nothing._ That's the whole point!"

"You've been punishing him for over a year and a half now, and for what?"

"Well, what's the acceptable sentencing length, huh Tommy? What would you say is an appropriate length of time to be mad at someone for dooming the fucking world?"

He holds his hands up, placating. "I get it. I jus' want you to know, it ain't gonna change things. He's not gonna wake up one morning and feel different. So, if you're waiting for a change of heart, for an apology, for him to fucking reform his ways, you're gonna be waiting a long time. That man loves you, Ellie."

She looks away and swallows past the lump in her throat. "Yeah. Well, he's got a shitty way of showing it." The stall is clean. She hangs her pitchfork on the wall and grabs the wheelbarrow. "Anyway, I'll see you Christmas Eve. Popcorn and a Christmas movie. I'll be on my best behavior. He better do the same."

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Maria and Tommy go all-out for Christmas. Twinkling lights line their rooftop and windows. Handmade wreaths and garlands adorn the doors. Inside, an eight foot tree sheds pine needles onto the hardwood. Plates of cookies and snacks sit scattered on counters and end tables, mostly picked-over. There's a sense of relief in the house, like the calm after a storm. Like every year, Maria has hosted a half-dozen Christmas parties here over the past month, catering to community leaders and important families. Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, though, are just for _her_ family. She greets Ellie at the door with a quick hug and doesn't even seem to notice that Ellie's sneakers leave muddy footprints in her entry way.

Ellie tosses her coat over a chair and accepts a beer from Tommy. Joel is already here, of course, sitting in the living room on the end of the couch, but he doesn't get up when she enters. She meets his gaze and gives him a short nod, which he returns, and the dance begins. Ellie looks away and forces a smile. "Thanks for having me over, Maria. Are those stuffed mushrooms?"

Joel's face twitches and he responds in kind. "Hey, Tommy, bring that bottle of scotch over, would you?"

It's . . . definitely weird, but overall not half as tense as Ellie was expecting. With her usual deftness, Maria manages to carry on simultaneous conversations with both Ellie and Joel, despite each of them pretending the other is a piece of furniture. Before she knows it, Ellie finds herself going on about that set of charcoals she's experimenting with and how Dina's asked her to do a quick art class for the kids, but she's not sure if she can tolerate the rug rats for that long. She tries not to listen while Maria draws Joel out over a set of guitars he's apparently hand carving to sell in town. Well, that explains why the light's been on in his workshop so often lately.

All things considered, though it's a relief when Tommy turns on the TV, pops in a DVD, and turns on The Best Christmas Movie of All Time. As Tommy settles on the couch between Joel and Ellie, he turns to her and offers his glass in toast. "Yippie-ki-yay."

She smiles and clinks her glass against his, relaxing for the first time all day. "Motherfucker." 

She pretends not to notice when Joel's posture relaxes just a little too.

Ellie has seen this movie twice. Joel and Tommy have seen it enough that they can quote almost every line back and forth like an Abbott and Costello routine. This year, they're a little more reserved, but it's still less than a minute into the movie before Tommy is turning to Joel and smiling. "Damn, this flick was showin' its age even before the outbreak."

"You surprised?" Joel's voice is light. "It's almost as old as we are."

"Still, a gun on an airplane? Shit."

Ellie arches an eyebrow. "How is him having a gun weirder than him being on a fucking airplane?"

"Good point."

Joel snorts. "Now _you're_ showin' your age."

On screen, John McClane bumbles his way off the plane, hauling luggage and a massive teddy bear. "He screwed up," Ellie interprets, "That is an apology-bear."

"Not necessarily," Tommy says, "Kids used to go crazy over those massive stuffed animals." He looks at Joel. "You remember that one year at the carnival? Sarah must've been eight or nine and she decided she wanted a stuffed animal the size of a pony? You must've spent an hour in that booth, throwing darts."

Joel smiles. "That damn lion. Would've been cheaper just to buy the thing."

"The heart wants what the heart wants. An' you never could say no to her."

"Naw," he says gruffly, "That was definitely an apology-lion."

"Yeah?"

"Summer of 2009, remember? Had to move for work. She was still mad at me for losin' her friends."

Ellie glances at him, then away. She's . . . glad, she supposes, that he's able to reminisce about Sarah so readily these days. It probably helps, now that so many other recollections are off-limits. He pretends not to notice her watching, so after a moment, she shakes herself and reaches for the popcorn.

Gunfire patters through the television's aging speakers as the bad guys put an abrupt end to a schmoozy office holiday party. "I'll admit," Maria says dryly, "I've occasionally wished that would happen in real life."

As they settle into the movie, the awkwardness gradually fades. It's hard to hold onto hostility while laughing at the explosions and ketchup-colored blood spatters. Tommy seemingly takes his role as Switzerland's lead ambassador very seriously. He's cheerful and gregarious, cracking jokes and drawing both Joel and Ellie into conversation. It's easy, after a while, to just . . . pretend things are normal. To tell the same tired jokes and laugh at the same silly moments. She remembers the first time she saw this movie, over at Joel's place during their first Christmas in Jackson. She'd chopped down a scraggly pine and insisted on putting it up in his living room. He'd called it her "Charlie Brown tree," but they never could track down the Charlie Brown movie so he could explain what he meant. Eventually, they settled for this, the Best Christmas Movie of All Time, and she had no complaints.

Abruptly, she remembers Riley, that one Christmas that they spent together when Ellie was thirteen. The teachers had been handing out one candy cane apiece to any kids who had a B-average or were in the top twenty percent in their military conditioning drills. Riley stole handfuls of them, and the two of them ate the candy down in a basement utility closet, getting their fingers sticky and trying to smother their laughter. And, just like that, Ellie is angry again. Sure, it's not Joel's fault that Riley is dead, but it sure as hell _is_ his fault that her death was _meaningless_.

On screen, the head bad guy takes McClane's estranged wife hostage. Ellie's lip twists. "Y'know," she says, "The movie did her dirty."

Tommy glances at her, brow furrowing. "How's that?"

"She's a pawn. She doesn't get any control over what happens to her."

"She's a hostage. Those are kind of the breaks."

"She spends the whole movie getting jerked around! By Hans _and_ by John. She never gets to _do_ anything."

"It came out in the eighties," Maria says tiredly, "Folk were . . . pretty narrow-minded about what women were capable of back then."

After one last flurry of bullets, Hans finally falls to his death and a blood-smeared John McClane pulls his wife into a kiss, but Ellie doesn't find it half as satisfying as she used to. "And, that part's bullshit."

"Yeah," Maria says, "I don't know any woman that wants to be kissed by someone covered in that much blood."

"Oh, really?" Tommy grins. "That one day at the dam, I don't remember any complaints."

Ellie snorts. "Not that. The fact that she just takes him back, no question and no discussion. Like none of the problems they had even mattered."

Tommy looks at her. The smile fades from his face. "Well, he _did_ save her life."

Joel gets up and takes a couple of glasses to the kitchen, jostling Tommy in the process. It looks like an accident. They all know it's not. Ellie knows she should just back down, but Tommy's tone sets her teeth on edge. She doesn't get how he can just take Joel's side, in all this, knowing what he did. She spits him with a look. "She didn't ask for that - for him to go full-Rambo on those goons and almost die trying. It was _her_ life, but I guess that doesn't matter because it's _his_ movie. So, he gets the girl and gets to live happily ever after, but what about what _she_ wanted?"

Maria leans forward in time to prevent a fight. "They don't really live happily ever after," she tells Ellie in a half-conspiratorial tone, "By the second movie, they're on the outs again."

"There's a second movie?"

"Yeah, they made like five of 'em," Tommy says, "You'd like the second one. Takes place in an airport."

"Do you have that one?"

"God, I wish. Never could find a copy." He glances at Ellie and his face tightens a little. "Of course," he says slowly, "I've got the fourth and fifth. Last one came out less than a year before the outbreak. We could watch 'em if you want."

Ellie arches an eyebrow. It seems innocent enough, but somehow this feels like a trap. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Got 'em right in the cabinet."

Joel's sudden laugh startles her. It's not a happy sound. She turns to find him leaning in the doorway with his arms folded. "Oh, for fuck's sake, Tommy, we are _not_ subjecting another generation to those movies."

"What? They're classics. Relics of a bygone culture, or some shit like that."

"They're a disgrace to the name of Hollywood. Don't go corruptin' the youth with that." He's keeping his tone light, but his smile seems forced. And, what he's saying doesn't make any sense because Joel _loves_ bad action movies. He'll even wax poetic about Curtis and Viper 3. There's something here that they're not saying.

Tommy stands and shrugs. "I'm jus' sayin'. We've got the movies."

Joel's lips tighten. "Leave it alone, Tommy."

He looks away and nods. Maria stands. "Why don't you help me with these dishes, Tommy? This house looks like a bomb went off in it."

The tension breaks a little, and Tommy follows Maria to the kitchen. Ellie sips her beer and pretends to be very interested in the movie's closing credits, but she can't help sneaking little glances at Joel. His face, up close, is more lined than she remembers. The couch creaks as he sits down heavily. She sighs. She . . . gets it, really - why Tommy tries to take his side. What she doesn't get is why Joel seems so determined not to let him.

She abruptly decides to take a risk. She throws out the rules of engagement and looks him in the face. "What was that about?" she asks quietly.

Joel glances at her, then away. He shrugs slightly. "Didn't want to watch a shit movie."

She rotates her glass in her hand. "That's not it. Why didn't you want _me_ watching that movie?"

He rubs his chin, fingers rasping through his beard. He's staring at the TV screen, and for a moment, Ellie thinks he's not going to answer. Finally, he sighs. "The Die Hard movies . . . they stopped bringin' back the ex-wife character after a while. The last two movies were John an' his grown kids." His voice is neutral, as if he really is talking about nothing more important than thirty-year-old movies. "They always had the same plot. The kids would start out estranged from him 'cause he was a shitty dad most of the time. Then, he'd fight off the bad guys, save their lives, and by the end, bygones would be bygones again." He looks at her. "Tommy's just meddling. He don't get it."

"Oh." She takes a long pull of her drink. It strikes her that Joel has never made excuse for what he did - not once. He doesn't hit back when she lashes out either. That's not nothing. It's not enough - maybe nothing would be enough - but it is something. "Thanks," she says finally, "For . . . getting it, at least."

He looks at her. There's no excuse in his eyes. No remorse, either, and she's almost glad of that. He nods once.

She hides her expression by draining the rest of her drink. This is more civil words than she's exchanged with Joel in a long time. She needs to get out of here before she fucks it up. She stands and directs her words to Tommy and Maria. "Anyway, I oughta be heading back. Thanks for the movie. And the food."

"Of course, honey," Maria says. She's emerging from the kitchen, wiping soap suds from her hands. "There's a couple gifts for you under the tree. You should grab 'em on your way out."

Ellie squats by the tree and picks up a couple of packages wrapped in brown paper and tied with bright ribbon. Her hand pauses when there's only one box left. It's small and square and tied with a plaid bow that looks familiar. Hesitantly, she smoothes the tag between her fingers and reads it.

_"To: Ellie, From: Santa"_

The handwriting, naturally, is Joel's. She sighs and rolls her eyes. A similar package from "Santa" appeared on her doorstep on Christmas Day last year. Her anger was still fresh at that point. She couldn't quite bring herself to throw it out, but she left it on her shelf, unopened, for almost four months before she finally unwrapped it to find a new holster of beautiful, hand-tooled leather. It was another month before she could bring herself to use it, despite the fact that her old holster was falling apart, but the first time Joel saw it on her hip, his face lit up like fucking fireworks. 

She picks up the last package and sits back on her heels, staring at it. Maria rests a hand gently on her shoulder. "Y'know . . . if you want, you could open one tonight. It's an old Christmas tradition."

Ellie swallows and scans the room. Tommy is leaning against the wall, arms folded. Joel is sitting hunched over his knees. He's trying to affect disinterest, but he can't quite hide the cautious hope in his eyes. She sighs. He's gone out of his way to respect her wishes and give her space. He's accepted all her stupid terms and spent two hours pretending to be part of the scenery because it was the only way to spend time with her. He's even shut down Tommy's meddling and deflected all of his brother's backhanded attempts to defend him She wants to give him something, for all that. And she _really_ doesn't want to see the kicked-puppy expression that he'll be wearing if she refuses.

"Sure. What the hell."

She sits down and sets aside the gifts from Tommy and Maria. She doesn't look at Joel, but she can feel his eyes on her. Gently, she unknots the bow and folds open the paper, setting them aside to be reused next year. The box within is brown cardboard. She opens it with steady fingers.

The moment she reaches into the box and feels smooth, polished wood, she knows what she's in for. Last year's gift was thoughtful and practical and beautiful, but still the kind of gift that could be bought down on Main Street from a decorated display window. This one is far more personal. She pulls out the carved statuette and rubs her thumb over the base. It's smooth cherry, carved as a horse and polished until it almost glows. It must've taken hours to carve. He's even delicately roughened the wood over the horse's face, to match the blaze down Shimmer's nose.

She swallows. "Wow." She clears her throat. "Tell _Santa_ he's got pretty good taste." She doesn't look at Joel - she _can't_ \- but as she climbs to her feet, she tucks the figurine carefully in her pocket. "Anyway. I should go."

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

There's fresh snow falling, melting into her hair and crunching under her sneakers as Ellie makes her way home. Most of Jackson has settled in for the night. Lights are glowing in living room windows as tired parents tuck presents under trees.

Her studio is dark, but warm. She flicks on the overhead lights and piles the gifts from Tommy and Maria on her desk. The horse she sets gently on a shelf, between a similarly carved kitten and a turtle.

Before she quite knows what she's doing, she's pulled out her sketch pad. Her hand freezes on the spiral ring binding, thinking of that drawing of the giraffes. Of their hands. She could just . . . give it to him. Swallow her pride, tuck it in an envelope, and slide it under his door. She could even recreate his silly pretense. _To Joel. From Santa._ He'll probably be up at Tommy's another hour or so, anyway. She won't get caught.

She thinks of Riley, and Sam and Henry and Tess. Grief and anger flash through her, and she has to clench her jaw against the onslaught. She can't. She knows Tommy is right - no amount of time and no amount of _punishment_ will change Joel's feelings, but her feelings haven't changed either, at least not enough. Not yet.

But, for the first time, she feels like the answer to the question of forgiving Joel is _"not yet,"_ rather than _"never."_ Someday. When it doesn't hurt this much. When she no longer feels the need to spread the pain around.

She puts the sketchpad back on the shelf, pauses a moment, then turns away.

She'll give it to him next year.

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is appreciated and cherished.


End file.
